Snippets of Life
by outerelf
Summary: Snippets from the lives of two bots as they attempt to raise a youngling Red Alert.


_a/n: Had to put up a warning here: **THIS IS SERIOUSLY UNBETA-D AND IT'S CHOPPY!** It's a birthday fic for a friend, and it's basically snippets from the life and times. Hope you all enjoy!_

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Long fingers tapped on the table loudly as an optic ridge steadily climbed to it's zenith. Feet shuffling and the 'we-aren't-looking-at-you' looks flittered away from the curious face-plate. "Ratch' is something the matter?"

Ratchet paused, struggling with what to say as he looked around the dump of a place his friend called 'home'. Not that his place was much better- his spark flared just a bit uncomfortably, and Ratchet let out a deep sigh. "No Wheeljack, it's… nothing."

Wheeljack's head tilted to one side, as Ratchet continued, "Do you remember what happened a week ago?"

"Yeah, you came staggering in drunk with some other bot- red and green colored – before you both vanished into your house." Here Wheeljack looked slightly embarrassed. "I could hear you both in my house. I don't think the neighbors are happy."

At this point, Ratchet was less worried with what the _neighbors_ thought, then what exactly he was going to do. His fingers twitched as he stood abruptly. "Thanks 'Jack. I'll talk to you later."

The mostly white bot retreated quickly back to his own house, to sink into a chair. "Slaggit!"

Again, his spark fluctuated oddly. A cross static sigh rushed from the medic, as one hand rose to his chest-plate. "I can't raise a sparkling. I just can't," he whispered softly into the empty air, before struggling to sit up properly.

He could end the spark early- but that wouldn't be the right thing to do. Nor could he afford a sparklings body. Or could he?

No- he'd have to pool with someone else. He knew that. That was why he had gone to Wheeljack in the first place, only to skitter away at the last second. He knew Wheeljack would help, or even offer to build the body himself- but that was the problem.

Ratchet sighed as he propped his head on one hand. "Slaggit. Why does this have to be so hard? Organics can just simply make the bodies within them. Or lay eggs." He wasn't an organic, and the small spark nursing off of his wasn't leaving anytime soon either.

There was a knock at the door, and Ratchet growled to himself. "Come in!"

Wheeljack entered the room sheepishly. "Ratchet- you- you don't have a sparkling, do you?"

Ratchets lie died in his vocalizer before he nodded dumbly. "Yeah 'Jack, I actually do."

Wheeljack- out of all insane things- perked up. Perked up! Ratchet gaped as Wheeljack leaned forward eagerly. "You're going to take care of it right? I bet I could help!"

Ear fins flashed happily as Ratchet could just _see_ the grin beneath the facemask. "'Jack- I don't think I'm going to be able to take care of it."

Wheeljack stared back at him. "Why not Ratch?"

"Look around you Wheeljack! Look at me! I like my parties, I live in a dump, I don't even have enough money to buy a sparkling body for this, and it'll only grow more expensive."

Wheeljack was still staring at Ratchet in incomprehension. Ratchet snarled, before standing up. A moment later, he collapsed back down into the seat, CPU reeling. Wheeljack jumped towards Ratchets side. "Calm down Ratchet, you might harm the sparkling. Besides which, you won't have to buy a body."

"And why not?" Ratchet snapped back, fuming as Wheeljack hovered.

"I already have one." Wheeljack said softly. Ratchets disbelieving optics rose to Wheeljack. Wheeljack tried for a smile, before demanding softly, "Do you think you're the only one that went out and found you were going to have a sparkling?"

"But- you- Wheeljack- how-"

For the first time since Ratchet had known Wheeljack, the mech glanced away. "It was… well… I'd rather not talk about it Ratch. But you can use it. I got it all tested out, so it should be fine. I just got it tested out this last week-"

Ratchet watched as Wheeljack trailed off, his CPU not supplying him with any means of what to say. "Erm, Jack?"

Wheeljack turned back to him, head tilting to one side in the very slightest curiosity. Ratchets vocalizer burned with the words that he said softly. "Thanks Wheeljack. Thanks a lot."

Wheeljack nodded, a soft laugh flittering from his vocalizer. Ratchet leaned back, not quite able to believe that everything had worked out this well. Wheeljack leaned forward just a few inches, "Ratchet. Gotta promise me one thing though. When you have the sparkling, you'll keep him, right?"

Ratchet hesitated, a myriad of concerns attempting to spew out. _The house is too old and too dangerous, the neighbors aren't trustworthy except for you, how am I supposed to raise a sparkling?_

It all died as Wheeljack said reassuringly, "I'll help you raise the sparkling Ratchet. I'll take him when you're working. Trust me, it'll all work out."

Ratchet swallowed off the accusation that Wheeljack would probably somehow catch the sparkling in one of his infamous explosions. Instead he struggled to sit up, as Wheeljack leaned backwards. "However did I get a friend like you 'Jack?"

"Probably because you're the only doctor that hasn't given up on me yet." Wheeljack teased, optics sparkling in good cheer. "I gotta keep my doctor happy, right?"

Ratchet fixated Wheeljack with a long stare. "You know Wheeljack, if there's one explosion while the sparkling is nearby-"

"-I won't have hands for the next vorn." Wheeljack laughed as he mimicked Ratchets tones, before continuing, "No worries Ratchet. I'll make certain that the sparkling is safely tucked away if I have to experiment."

"Mmmhmm." Ratchet gave Wheeljack The Look. Wheeljack didn't wilt underneath it like he usually would've done.

"Would you like to see the sparkling body?" Wheeljack asked happily, "I can guarente you'll love it!"

Ratchet glanced at him for a long few moments, before nodding. "Alright, show it to me."

"Alright, wait right here."

Wheeljack took off towards his apartment leaving Ratchet alone, dizzily wondering what had happened to his life. In a matter of moments it had been turned upside down, then right side up, and now it was tilting dangerously. _Since when did Wheeljack have a sparkling? He never told me about that- though I met him only in the past ten vorns…_

Ratchet shook his head as he pushed up onto elbows to stare after Wheeljack thoughtfully. What happened to Wheeljacks sparkling? A miscarriage of some sort obviously but…

Ratchet winced, before flinching away from that thought to instead sink back into the chair.

Wheeljack came back, bearing a small, white painted body. Ratchet glanced at it curiously, before holding out his arms. Wheeljack carefully placed it in the medics arm, and just the slightest smile twisted Ratchet's face. "Ha, I can just imagine the sparkling just bouncing around."

"Just watch Ratchet, he'll watch you throwing things, and he'll have an aim just like yours."

Ratchet smiled at Wheeljack, before looking back down at the sparkling body. "Wheeljack…thanks."

Wheeljack shook his head. "Don't thank me yet! Just wait until the sparkling gets here!"

Ratchet glanced at Wheeljack, before nodding.

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Wheeljack laughed as he bounced the small youngling in his arms, ignoring Ratchets glower. "Hey there little guy! You're certainly growing, aren't you?"

"Wheeljack, don't bounce him too hard! You might rattle his CPU!"

"Awww- c'mon Ratchet, don't you agree that he's so cute?" Wheeljack hugged the youngling close, as the youngling shrieked in indignant laughter. "Aww, c'mere Red! Don't run away from daddy Wheeljack!"

"Jack! Jack!" The small youngling cried, tiny hands pushing against the facemask. Wheeljack giggled slightly, before the youngling pointed behind Wheeljack. "That go 'Splody!"

"splody?" Wheeljack repeated, puzzled.

The youngling nodded, hands cupping to fling them outwards. "Splody!"

Wheeljack turned towards the back, optics searching for something that could explode. Red Alert giggled yet again, before pointing at a small, unobtrusive object. "It go tick, tick, tick, tick! Go splodey, like bomb!"

Wheeljack stared at the object for a few moments, before gently placing the youngling in Ratchets arms to make his way over to the object. Sure enough, a soft ticking noise came from it.

Wheeljack picked it up, checking it over. It was an alarm clock. Wheeljack chuckled softly. "It's just an alarm clock, for those whose internal chronometers are damaged Red! Really, you had me worried there for a moment!"

"It not go splodey?"

"No Red. It doesn't."

Red Alert frowned at the small object, before he looked up at Wheeljack. "Jack make it go splodey? Make everything go splodey!"

"Now that's not true!" Wheeljack said hastily as Ratchet fixated him with a glare. "I don't make everything explode."

"Red, has Wheeljack been making things go splodey around you?" Ratchet demanded. Wheeljack frantically shook his head as Red Alert nodded.

"Lots of colorful splodeys!" Wheeljack groaned. He knew he shouldn't of developed a colorful light holographic projector to keep Red Alert entertained- Red was still having the problem of differentiating between multi-color streams popping from nowhere and explosions. All of the cartoons on the holovid weren't helping either.

"Not real explosions Ratchet! It's simply the holographic projector that I developed!"

Ratchet pointed a stern finger at Wheeljack. "We'll talk about this later. As for now, it's time for your nap Red."

"But I'm not tired!" Despite this vehement protest, optics flickered on and off, before at last setting to off. Ratchet bore the sleeping Red Alert away, as Wheeljack wisely decided it would probably be better to hightail it back to his apartment.

The medic gently placed the youngling in the berth, optics softening as the youngling twisted on the berth, curling up as Ratchet attached cables to the small body.

Ratchet glanced around the room, optics flittering over the few toys that lay scattered about the room. Despite himself the slightest frown touched his face. It was rather bare when compared with other rooms. Wheeljack had made most of these toys anyways- and they were all sparkling toys. Not youngling toys…

Ratchet strode out of the room, CPU preoccupied. He had just recently gotten a promotion, so he had a little extra money. Maybe perhaps- "Wheeljack, could you watch Red for awhile? I want to go and get something for him."

Wheeljack optics shuttered once, before grinning and nodding. "Sure Ratchet."

"And don't think I haven't forgotten what he said about you." Ratchet warned, as he walked out the door. "We're still going have to talk about that."

Wheeljack winced as he eased towards Red Alerts room.

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"Slag it."

Ratchet froze at the words that dropped from his young creations mouth, as Red Alert frowned at the not-working datapad. Wheeljack glanced up from where he was currently attempting to connect two wires without shocking himself. "Did he just-"

"Yep, he did."

"Well Sl-"

Ratchet glowered at Wheeljack, and the engineer hastily cut himself off. "We need to stop swearing around the youngling."

"How?"

Red Alert frowned again. "Afting idiot."

Wheeljack winced at one of Ratchets more commonly used phrases. Ratchet groaned, and swore softly under his breath. The youngling giggled, and said, "Dad! You just call yourself Pit-spawned moronic slagger!"

The youngling was about to go on, when Wheeljack hurriedly interrupted, "Now, now Red! Let's not make the medic angry! Besides, you shouldn't be saying those sorts of words."

Red Alert frowned, small face scrunching up in confusion. "But Dad says them!"

"Dad didn't ever mean for you to hear those words sweetling."

Ratchet was about to add something more in another loud grumble, when his optics fell on the waiting youngling. "He's right Red. You shouldn't say such words."

Red pouted. "But you say them!"

"Well I'll stop. We'll both stop from using those words. How about that?"

Red Alert didn't look convinced. Ratchet grasped desperately at a reason. "Tell you what, if either of us ever say those words again, we'll have too- erm…" Ratchet paused, unable to think of a threat that would work for both of them.

"Then we won't get any energon snacks?" Red Alert inquired fearfully, blue optics round. He loved his little energon treats he got once a day.

Ratchet nodded firmly. "No energon snacks." Internally he also was wincing. Whenever Red didn't get his snacks, he became cranky.

And Wheeljacks earlier prediction of Red having a good aim was slowly turning out to be true. More then once Ratchet had been forced to duck a thrown toy when Red Alert had one of his temper-tantrums.

Wheeljack leaned close to whisper, "Good luck."

"Coward, get back here!" Ratchet hissed as Wheeljack began beat a hasty retreat back to his shop.

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Red Alert proudly stood among the group of younglings, optics searching the crowd for his 'dad' and 'daddy'. _We get to graduate into High School! I can't wait!_

A frown began to tug at his face as he realized something- neither of his parents were in the crowd. He had been warned that such a thing might happen, but- he hadn't actually thought that it would happen. Ratchet and Wheeljack had always made time for him-

A low hum of relief escaped him as his optics caught with his fathers. Ratchet grinned, futiely wiping at a small speck of energon. _He must of ran here directly._ Red Alert made a discreet wave in Ratchets direction. Ratchet smiled, nodded, and glanced around, looking for a seat. There were no seats left, and already wall space was being taken up by proud creators.

Ratchet leaned against the wall, ignoring others looks as his optics fixated on his creation.

Red Alert proudly strode to the very front.

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Bam! A datapad hit the wall. Ratchets optics went heavenward for patience. "I said I don't want to talk to you!"

One hand rose to rub at his helm, in attempts to ease the impending CPU ache. Ratchet hit the open key to the door, and snatched the next datapad out of mid-air. "If you're going to throw things, throw things that will hurt when they make contact. Now, what's the matter?"

"I said-"

Ratchet hit the lock key, and stepped forward. The door locked behind him, as his optics swept the room. Red Alert glowered from the berth. He was sitting on it cross-legged, holding a pillow close to his chest. The rest of the room had old sparkling toys carefully placed in a corner, as older, much more grown up 'toys' held their places neatly on shelves.

Red Alert growled from the berth, fixating Ratchet with the Death Stare. Copied from the same mech standing in front of him. The end result was less then desirable. "Red, you look silly like that. You're too small to do a Death Stare."

"Small." Ratchet stiffened at the growl, as optics narrowed further at him. The medic was rapidly getting the idea that he had just stumbled upon the reason why Red Alert was so mad.

"I am small, aren't I? It's so stupid!" Swear words trembled at the edge of the vocalizer, but Red Alert refrained from using them. The threat from when he had been a sparkling still lingered in his CPU. "Everywhere I go, I'm always mistaken for a younger age then I actually am!"

Ratchet's optic ridge rose. "And where might you of gone that it would be such a bad thing?"

Red Alerts vocalzier shut off with a snap, as he looked away. Dread began to fill Ratchet. "Red- you didn't try to go into the red light district, did you?"

A slightly guilty look filled Red Alerts face as Ratchet groaned. "And here I thought that you were better then that."

Red Alert flinched. Ratchet ground on, "I thought we both agreed that you should keep out of the red light district- there's nothing there that would interest you, and besides which, you're still too young for such things! What if you get a sparkling?"

Red Alerts head snapped towards him. "I notice you never took your own advice!" It was a badly managed comment, one merely set up in defense.

It was a near slap to Ratchet, and he stopped dead, hands clenching into two trembling fists. A knock came at the door, as Wheeljacks voice floated through, "Hey, Red Alert, have you seen Ratchet? I need him for something."

Red Alerts vocalizer flickered through several responses, until Ratchet at last said slowly, "You're right."

Ratchet turned around, walked out. Red Alert slumped against the head of the berth, something hot prickling at the edges of his optics. He buried his face into his pillow as Wheeljacks voice floated back to him, "Ratchet? Are you ok, Ratch? Ratchet?"

Cold misery took the place of his energon processor, as Red Alert curled up into a tiny ball. "Slag, slag, slag." He muttered. His optics were wavering funnily- but he wasn't crying, because grown mechs didn't cry.

Dinner that night was an unusually silent affair. Wheeljack found himself sitting between two equally silent mech, both whom were equally fixated on their food and determined not to be the first to comment instead of the lively banter that took place. After halfway through, Ratchet abruptly stood up, bidding both good night, and escaped the room.

Red Alert didn't twitch as Wheeljacks stare fell on him. He picked a little more at his energon, before abruptly shoving it to one side. Miserable tension still filled his face, but he moved after Ratchet, before gently knocking at the door. Ratchets voice, unusually quiet, floated out, "Come in."

The door slid open, as Red Alert took a deep, rattling intake. "Ratchet?" His vocalizer squeaked on the last syllable, as the odd wavering began to take place once again.

The medic turned, a slightly surprised look crossing his features as he spotted Red Alert standing at the doorway. Red Alert attempted to swallow the knotted feeling that blocked his vocalizer, only marginally succeeding. "Dad-" He very rarely used that title, but it rolled off the glossa surprisingly easily. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Ratchet mumbled. "What you're saying is correct- I didn't-"

"But if you hadn't, then I wouldn't be here. And- well- I know you sacrificed so much for me, and you just want the best for me." Red Alert stared down at the floor, unable to meet his creators' optics. "Anyways- I'm sorry."

Red Alert turned, and fled blindly past Wheeljack. The engineer moved to one side, allowing the near-adult mech to escape into privacy before turning back to Ratchet. Ratchets forhead rested against the table, shoulders shaking. Wheeljack very quietly retreated.

It would take days for the awkwardness to end, and vorns before there was any trust between the youngling and his creator.

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Ratchet groaned as he leaned backwards in the seat, staring very hard at his shame-faced creation. "You don't want to become a doctor?"

"I-I just don't think I'm medically cleared to become one. Whenever an operation approaches, my hands are shaking badly, I'm terrified, I barely have any idea what I'm supposed to do- Doctors need to be able to handle a crisis. I can't."

Ratchet refrained from pointing out that Red Alert could handle a crisis better then some medics he knew (He was going to kill Wiresnap if the stupid medic messed up one more patient) and instead inquired, "Then what _do_ you want to do?"

"I was thinking about becoming a security bot." Red Alert admitted. Ratchet stiffened.

Security forces were always a sore point with him. He hadn't told Red Alert yet, but his other father had been a security bot. Not that the mech had ever appeared again- Ratchet later found out that the mech had transferred out. "A _security bot_?"

"I don't see what your problem is with them." Red Alert said defensively, even as he watched Ratchet worriedly. "It seems like a good idea to me. I've always been interested in such things."

Wheeljack nodded from the opposite side of the room. "It's true Ratchet. When he was a youngling, he'd trundle around the shop, watching people, claiming he was there to make certain they didn't steal." Wheeljack chuckled at the memories. "Several mechs got rather offended at that, but it's all good. And then he asked me how to fix those cameras."

"That doesn't mean he's suitable for being a security bot." Ratchet snarled harshly. Red Aelrts face fell, but Ratchet continued on, "Besides Wheeljack, you of all mechs should know why I don't want him in such a business!"

Wheeljack glanced away uncomfortably at that reminder. Red Alert merely looked puzzled. Ratchet rounded on Red Alert, snapping, "Go and pick another job."

"I- I- Ra- DAD! I don't want another job! I was even told by one of the mechs that teaches Security and Defense that I'd be a natural at it!" Ratchet stiffened even further as Red Alert refused to back down.

Wheeljack was rapidly beginning to stand, CPU working to head off the argument already rapidly spiraling out of control. "Ratchet, can I speak to you for a moment? Privately?" His optics fixated on Red Alert.

Arms crossed, before both reluctantly nodded. Ratchet stepped towards where Wheeljack waited, as Red Alert pretended to take great interest in a picture hanging on the wall.

Wheeljack hissed, "Ratchet, you gotta let it go."

Ratchets arms crossed. If looks could kill, Wheeljack would be a melted puddle of slag. "Ratchet, look at him! He's old enough to make his own decisions. And he's not going to back down. If he doesn't want to be a medic, then he doesn't want to be a medic. You can't honestly intend to force him into a job he hates!"

"If it'll be awful for the future, then you bet I can."

"Look at it this way, at least he doesn't want to become a hooker or something." Wheeljack pointed out. "Come on Ratch- not every security bot is gonna be like the other guy. I mean, the ones stationed at your hospital aren't, are they?"

Ratchet considered the words, as Red Alerts gaze bore into him pleadingly. "Alright. But you better get very good grades, or otherwise you're out."

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The fire truck shifted uncomfortably as the medic fixated him with a cool, long stare. _Why is it that I feel like he's trying to decide whether or not to take me apart for spare parts?_

Beside him, Red Alert scowled at the energon cube. "Inferno, Inferno- are you listening to me Inferno?" He waved a hand in front of the fire trucks face, making the bot jump slightly.

The medics optics narrowed further as the engineer beside him head ducked. A muffled sound- that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle – came from the ducked head. "Inferno, I'd like for you to meet Ratchet and Wheeljack. Ratchet, Wheeljack, this is Inferno. He's from Search and Rescue division. We've been out on several missions."

Inferno smiled hopefully at the medic. _Why is he scowling at me?_ "Nice to meet you."

A monosyllabic grunt, before Ratchet snapped, "Have you had your checkups?"

"Huh?" Inferno glanced at Red Alert, but it was too late. Wheeljack had appeared from nowhere to sweep the mech away. So he turned back to the medic. "Not too recently-"

"Perfect. Come with me."

Ratchet gestured imperially. Inferno puzzedly climbed to his feet, ignoring the looks sent towards the pair. Hallways melted into each other, until they at last entered the medbay.

Ratchet casually scanned the area, and finding nowhere there, smirked. If Inferno had known the mech, he would've started running for the door. As was, all he did was stupidly feel relief.

Ratchet picked up a tool case, and extracted a tool. "Tell me Inferno, how good at first aid are you?"

"Uhh- not very good."

"Did you know that this wrench can remove tail pipes? And that it's very easy to shove them up an skid plate when said tail pipe is removed?" Inferno shook his head, optics steadily growing wider as Ratchet –one by one- removed tools to list how _extremely_ useful they could be to cause pain.

Inferno resiliently resisted the urge to whimper and cower at the medics feet by the time they were a fourth of the way through. By half-way, he gave up all dignity to start whimpering. An evil, self-satisfied smirk appeared on Ratchet's face.

He wrapped up his interesting one-sided discussion with, "And if you make a single move on Red Alert, you're going to get some first hand experience with these tools."

"I wasn't planning on making any move on Red!" Inferno protested shrinking away from Ratchet as the medic leaned forward.

"Don't deny it. I saw those optics. Touch my sparkling, and you won't be leaving this medbay in one piece."

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Red Alert was pacing around his office. Again. Ratchet calmly ticked off a few boxes on the datapad as Red Alert began his 120th cycle around the room. "Red Alert, are you going to tell me what's wrong already?"

The brusque question actually seemed to calm down the mech. "Ratchet- how do you tell someone that you think you're in love with them?"

The stylus froze in midair. Ratchets optics rose to his youngling, not actually believing what he was hearing. Had his perfect- or at least nearly perfect- youngling actually taking an interest in someone?

He prayed to Primus that it wasn't a 'Con, or a player. "Who Red?"

Red Alert glanced pleadingly at Ratchet. "Who do you think? Inferno of course."

"Oh Red-" Ratchet moaned. "You had to pick one of the mechs I didn't like!"

"You don't like a lot of the Arks crew." Red Alert pointed out. "No matter how much you _care_ for them, you don't _like_ them."

"You have no right to talk." Ratchet grumbled. "What was that I heard you skipping out on meals again?"

"You skip out on them as well unless Wheeljack pulls you out of the medbay."

"…Touché." Ratchet set aside the stylus and datapad as Red Alert began yet another circuit of the room. "Go tell him. Solidly. But don't allow him to climb into the berth right after that. Take it slow."

Red Alert paused, a very slight hope filling his face. "You think he wants me?"

"Red, he'd have to be stupid in more ways then one not to want you."

Red Alert teetered on the edge of a decision before nodding. He wrapped Ratchet in a quick hug, before dashing off to go plan.

Ratchet stared around at the suddenly empty office.

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Ratchet sighed as Red Alert snuggled up to Inferno, Wheeljack right beside him. Wheeljack glanced longingly at them, before glancing back at Ratchet. _You know Ratch'… it wouldn't hurt to let yourself go._

"Go?" Wheeljack flinched as he realized that he said the words out loud. "Go? Go where Jack?"

Wheeljack actually thought about what he was going to do, before he grinned. "This."

He removed the facemask to kiss Ratchet softly on the lips, before replacing it, and strolling out of the room. Ratchet sat frozen. Red Alerts optics rose to where Ratchet sat, before prompting, "Well, go on Dad! Go after him!"

Ratchet spluttered something, before rushing after Wheeljack. Red Alert mumbled under his breath, "I was wondering how long it was going to take them."

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a/n: As always, please review.


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